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Written by Fr. Pier Giorio di Cicco
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Tuesday, 28 August 2007 |
the kid that shows up to serve the week after
his mother dies, the boy with the heart stitched shut
for the seventh time — Joe, with Parkinson’s who takes
communion on the tongue.
these are my people.
they dance on clouds.
nothing can shake them, and they unshake me; they
know water passes from my hands on the way
to a gulf, a sea.
they humble me and teach me
gifts are
no more my concoction than the day
I was born.
no death can haunt me.
my family is a stone on which
I engrave, tentatively, my name
like a keepsake.
they are with me, until
my eyes have ceased their stutter
and this heart stops beating
to anything but love.
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Fr. Pier Giorio Di Cicco |
| About the author: |
| Fr. Pier Giorgio DiCicco, a priest of the Archdiocese of Toronto, has authored 17 books of poetry. He was born in Italy, raised in Montreal, Boston and Toronto and has taught at the University of Toronto. He is currently Poet Laureate of the City of Toronto. His poetry is published by The Mansfield Press
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